Whirlwind
by Christine Morgan
Summary: Beth Maza has good reason to believe her family might have issues regarding her new boyfriend. Mature readers only. #23 in an ongoing saga.


Whirlwind   
by Christine Morgan   
http://www.sabledrake.com   
christine@sabledrake.com 

* * *

  
Author's Note: the characters of Gargoyles are the property of Disney and   
are used here without their creators' knowledge or consent. All others   
property of the author (except Nikki, who belongs to Leva); please don't   
borrow without permission. Mature readers only; sexual content.  
  
#23 in an ongoing Gargoyles fanfic saga 

* * *

  
It was a hazy day in Arizona when Beth Maza's life took a turn  
for the weird.  
She suffered through her morning classes in the stifling heat,  
and was too glad to escape to the air conditioned cafeteria. She poked  
listlessly at a turkey sandwich, really only having an appetite for the icy  
Coke.  
She kept half an ear tuned in to the flirtatious conversation of  
Ramona Ruiz and Snake Mendoza while looking glumly outside. She  
wasn't anticipating the long walk home, and once again silently berated  
herself for trying to save a few bucks by going to a cheaper but slower  
mechanic.  
The sky was a burnished copper plate hanging low and flat  
over the wind-sculpted terrain. The heavy, motionless air smelled wet-  
dog of moisture. Normally, weather like this would have included  
brooding thunderheads on the horizon, offering relief when the storm  
broke. But there were no clouds to be seen.  
Inez Paloma leaned across the table. "Are you done for the  
day?"  
"Except for working on my paper." Beth sighed. "I don't know  
how I'm ever going to get twenty pages. I'll be lucky if I can manage  
ten!" She pushed her plate away, got up and slung her tote bag over her  
shoulder.  
Inez also rose and fell in step with Beth as they headed out the  
door and onto the shaded concrete patio. Ramona promised Snake she  
would call him later, and caught up with them outside.  
"I must be crazy," she said. "Donna says he's nothing but  
trouble."  
"Then what is it?" Inez asked teasingly. "The leather? The  
chains? The hideous tattoo? What is it about guys like that?"  
"I don't know," Ramona sighed. "But I sure do like it!"  
Beth laughed. "Snake tries too hard. Gotta be macho, gotta be  
cool. Ick."  
"Maybe for you. I think he's neat." Ramona glanced back over  
her shoulder and waved. "So, ladies, where are we off to?"  
"Come over to my place for a while, why don't you?" Inez said  
to Beth. "My roommate gets off work at six, and then I can borrow her  
car and run you home. That way you won't fall down and die of  
heatstroke halfway."  
Beth started to answer, and paused as a sleek black motorcycle  
roared up the street. Its loud engine would have made conversation  
difficult even if they hadn't all stopped to stare at both bike and rider.  
It was a fine machine, a showpiece, customized in a way that  
demanded attention and envy. A stylized design, looking like a wolf  
raising a howling muzzle against a full moon, was painted on the side of  
the gas tank.  
The rider wore black leather and a shiny black helmet with a  
tinted visor. As he brought the bike to a stop in front of them, he  
extended one leg for balance and faded denim drew taut against his lean  
thigh.  
"Now, he's got bad boy written all over him," Inez observed.  
"Wish I could read it in Braille!" Ramona winked.  
The rider pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his  
shock of jet-black hair. He produced a pair of sunglasses, snapped them  
open with a flick of his wrist, and slipped them on.  
"Hello, Beth!"  
"My, my, Maza, look what you've got," Inez murmured, giving  
Beth a nudge. "Gotta be macho, gotta be cool!"  
Beth was too stunned to reply.  
"Who is he?" Ramona demanded, her voice more than touched  
with jealousy.  
It wasn't a wolf, painted there on the side of the bike. Not a  
wolf.  
"Coyote." She heard herself say it as if from very far away.  
He grinned, teeth white and even in his handsome bronze face.  
"Need a ride?"  
"You go, girl!" Ramona dug an elbow into her side. "But I  
want to hear all about it later!"  
"Beth, who is this guy? He looks like trouble." Inez frowned.  
She looked at her friends, ran through a couple of possible  
explanations, realized she couldn't pull any of them off convincingly,  
and glanced back to the bike propped nonchalantly in the street. Coyote  
was leaning on it in a casual pose, and his bright eyes met hers from  
over the tops of his shades. He winked.  
Decision came suddenly and irrevocably. "See you later," she  
said to Inez, and ran lightly to the curb.  
"Good to see you again." Coyote picked up his helmet, then  
with an air of solemnity that made her think of a groom turning back his  
bride's veil, he placed it on her head. His hands rested briefly on her  
shoulders and she shivered for no good reason.  
"Is something wrong? Why are you here? Is it Xanatos again?"  
she whispered.  
"I'll explain later. Let's ride!"  
He gunned the throttle as she swung onto the seat behind him.  
She put her arms around his narrow waist, feeling the sun-warmed  
leather of his jacket through her blouse. She was wearing cutoffs and  
low-topped hiking shoes, and his jeans felt cloud-soft against her bare  
legs.  
The bike shot down the street, leaving a spiraling cloud of dust  
in its wake. She tightened her grip, but his expert handling of the  
machine made her fears seem silly and unfounded. Already, the  
cafeteria and the wistfully watching Ramona and Inez were left behind.  
The campus was passing in a blur.  
Ahead of them, a dun-colored car with a red flasher bubble on  
the dashboard was crusing idly through the parking lot. Campus police.  
Coyote headed straight for them. Beth tensed in anticipation of the  
flasher's light to spin into life.  
The bike screamed past so close that she could have reached  
through the open window and tweaked the driver's moustache. He didn't  
so much as look their way.  
"He didn't see us?" she blurted, incredulous.  
"Can't see what doesn't want to be seen," Coyote called back.  
He veered onto the main road and was through town in the blink of an  
eye, heading out into the open desert.  
"Where are we going?" she yelled above the wind of their  
passage.  
"Eagle Rock."  
Although she had no idea what he was talking about, the  
answer satisfied her. She was content to lean against his back, the  
powerful machine humming under her, watching the scenery go by in  
reds and golds in the hazy sun.  
After a time, it seemed to her that the bike had vanished, and a  
swirling column of dust was bearing them over the sunbaked land, the  
noise of the engine now the muttering howl of an animal. They did not  
seem to be on the road anymore, the works of men left far behind. They  
were out in the wild country, where the mesas and arroyos promised  
beauty but unforgiving harshness.  
When they stopped, she realized that the sun was now far in  
the west. Several hours had passed as if in a daze or a dream. Maybe  
she _had_ dozed off! That would explain the weird visions.  
Coyote dropped the kickstand and heeled the bike over. It was  
a bike, of course, not anything else. She must have fallen asleep a little  
and dreamed. That was the only logical explanation.  
But there was no road to be seen, and the terrain was uneven.  
It would have challenged her Jeep, let alone a motorcycle. Bizarre.  
She dismounted and removed the helmet, shaking her head so  
that her short dark hair flew, then patting it back into a semblance of  
order.  
Coyote was looking thoughtfully at her. As she became  
conscious of that, he put his fingers gently under her chin.  
"Your eyes are like sunlight on the water," he said. He leaned  
closer, almost to kissing distance before she pulled uncertainly away.  
"Wait."  
He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and grinned. "What's  
the matter?"  
"Well ... you look ... you know. Like my father, when he was  
young."  
The grin widened. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Isn't that  
part of the attraction?"  
She blushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
"Oh, yes you do." He moved too fast to be seen. The next  
thing Beth knew, she was sitting on the ground and he was holding her  
right foot in his lap.  
"Hey!" she protested.  
He unlaced her hiking shoe and pulled it off, then pushed  
down her sock. "See? You wear my mark!"  
Her blush darkened. There on her ankle was the tattoo, a  
simple outline of a coyote's head, the same design of the sacred carving  
Xanatos had tried to destroy. She'd had it done a few weeks later, once  
Dad had gone back to New York. She couldn't say why, hadn't told  
anyone, even her sister. In fact, she'd almost forgotten. But there it was.  
"My mark. Can't deny it, Mai." He traced with his fingertip a  
mystic symbol on the tender sole of her foot, making her squirm.  
"Now, wait, wait a minute!" She retrieved her foot and hastily  
fumbled her shoe back on. "What did you call me?"  
"It's my name for you. Don't you like it?"  
She looked at him, seeing the playful twinkle in his eye. He  
really was cute, but he really did look like her father, but maybe that  
_was_ part of it ... she shook her head briskly, as if trying to shake some  
sense back into it.  
"Mai. It means coyote, doesn't it?" she asked to gain time to  
think.  
"Look. Sunset. The world hangs balanced. It is a time of  
power. Be right back."  
"Where --" was as far as she got.  
He'd been sitting right there, across from her, and then the air  
whispered and she heard a distant ghostly howl, and he was gone. She  
looked around, then felt her gaze drawn helplessly up, up to the peak of  
a pillar of rock shaped like the proud head of an eagle.  
There atop the reddish-brown stone stood a figure, a manshape  
in the fringed tunic and mask of a spirit dancer. In the west, the sun was  
a scarlet ball sinking into the curve of the earth. In the east, the pale rim  
of a full moon crept over the horizon.  
A time of power. Even Beth felt it. She was suspended  
between sun and moon, trembling on the threshold of a world she'd only  
known in dreams. Her skin tingled, her lungs seemed to draw endless  
breath, her senses were sharper than ever before.  
The sky was gold and rose and violet, painting the land with  
darker shadows as the sun slipped from view and the moon's lowest  
edge kissed the earth and then climbed from it.  
Wind stirred the fringes of the dancer's tunic. He vanished  
from his high perch, only to reappear before her a heartbeat later in a  
swirl of air.  
Unbidden, Beth suddenly wondered what it would be like to  
make love to such a creature, here in the desert night, bathed by the  
moonlight and the savage brilliance of a million stars.  
She wanted him then, wanted to be naked and wild in his arms,  
no matter who he looked like or what he really was. Any resemblance to  
actual persons, she thought, is purely coincidental.  
He removed his mask, and she could tell that he knew exactly  
what she was thinking. She smelled deerskin and spices, and another  
undefinable scent that might have been magic itself.  
Coyote touched her chin again, and this time she let him lift  
her face to his. He pressed a gentle, questioning kiss to her lips, a single  
spark that burned through her like a grassfire.  
"You know who I am, what I am, where I come from," he said.  
"Do I frighten you?"  
"A little," she admitted.  
He nodded. "I called you to me, Mai, just as I called your  
father. Now I have a boon to ask of you, but you may accept or reject of  
your own free will."  
"What do you want?" she asked, pretty sure she already knew  
the answer to that one.  
He laughed, reading her thoughts again. His garb fuzzed and  
changed back to jeans and leather jacket. "Not that. Well, not _just_  
that. Believe it or not, I didn't come all the way from Avalon just to  
check your tan lines."  
Beth looked him boldly in the eye and said, "What tan lines?"  
She guessed it wasn't often his kind was taken aback. It was  
funny to behold. He finally recovered, although a grin kept trying to  
resurface and she knew he was trying very hard not to ogle her bod,  
well-revealed in her shorts and sleeveless blouse.  
"What was I saying?"  
"A boon," she reminded him.  
"Right. Listen. There's a kicking party coming up on Avalon.  
Wanna go?"  
"What? Me? To Avalon?"  
"To Avalon. We're each to bring a mortal. It's sort of a  
contest."  
"Like the dog parties the frat boys hold?" she asked sourly. "I  
don't think so."  
"No, nothing like that!" He paused. "Well, maybe a little. But  
you'd be different. Some of my kin will trick or abduct their mortal  
guests. I've come to ask instead. To ask you."  
"Why me?"  
"In all the world, Mai, you are the one I would choose. I know  
your father and grandfather of old. I've felt your presence since you  
decided to come here instead of remaining in New York. You helped  
me against Xanatos when no one else would. You saw, and you  
believed."  
"That's not all, is it?" she asked, following her intuition.  
"Flattering as it is, of course."  
"It would boost my status to bring a mortal willingly and  
knowingly."  
"What else?"  
He scuffed his boot in the dust. "Okay, well, you're Elisa  
Maza's sister. She did a number on a bunch of my kin, and they'd hate  
being reminded of how a mortal got the better of them. That fat old  
talespinner Anansi, the Banshee ..." He winked. "Even Oberon  
himself!"  
"And since you're the Trickster, you take a perverse pleasure  
in needling them," she said.  
"That's right. Except I'm not _the_ trickster. Only _a_ trickster.  
My brother Raven handles things up northwest, and then there's Puck,  
and a host of others. There's always been a big market in playing mind  
games with you mortals."  
"Tell me again how I fit into this? How do I know this isn't one  
of your games?"  
"All I can give you is my word. Will that do?"  
"I hope so." She chewed thoughtfully on her lip. "But ... Elisa  
said that Avalon kept sending her places. She was gone for a long time.  
Mom and Dad were freaking out."  
"A single night on Avalon can be more than a week here," he  
said. "And one night is too short to enjoy all that Avalon has to offer.  
So you could be gone for a month or more. I swear, I'd bring you  
straight home afterward!"  
"I don't know ..." Beth said, half longing and half dreading.  
Coyote twined his fingers in her hair. "The party isn't for a  
couple of days yet. My time. You've got a while to think it over."  
"I'll think about it," she promised.  
His face lit up. "Great! I can't stay, but I'll come back. Look  
for me when the moon is new."  
"Wait -- you mean, you're leaving?"  
"I can't stay," he repeated, lower and softer. "We have to dance  
regular attendance on Daddy Oberon. He gave us leave to make a few  
journeys to the mortal world, but doesn't want us to dawdle."  
"What a jerk."  
"You're not the first to think so. Just don't say it to his face."  
He grasped her shoulders and bent to kiss her on the shelf of her jaw,  
then on the mouth. He drew back enough to test the weather in her eyes,  
and then, seeing what was there, he pulled her close.  
Beth sighed wordlessly as his arms went around her. Their lips  
met. She closed her eyes, feeling the wind spin around them, gaining  
speed until it felt like her feet were lifted off the ground, that they were  
flying through the air with dizzying speed. Still she didn't look, but  
yielded to his kiss.  
When at last he released her, she reluctantly opened her eyes  
and found herself standing alone on her own apartment balcony, where  
once gargoyles had stood watch.  
She blinked, confused, and heard the roar of an engine below,  
then hurried to the edge and looked down.  
There was nothing to be seen but a skirl of dust, nothing to be  
heard but a distant soulful howl.  
* *  
Beth spent the next two weeks trying to convince herself that it  
hadn't really happened. Not an easy task, since Inez and Ramona  
pestered her constantly about it, and even Snake Mendoza got in on it  
because he'd admired the bike so much.  
She dodged their questions as best she could and concentrated  
on her classes, but every night when the moon rose later and slimmer,  
she felt a nervous tingle in her belly.  
The twenty page paper got finished and turned in on time. Not  
her best effort, but it would do and her grades were good enough to  
allow her a little slacking.  
Several times, she caught herself halfway through dialling  
Elisa in New York. Every time, she hung up in confused shame.  
Sure, Elisa knew what it was to be involved with someone  
other than human, but her guy didn't wear their father's face. She  
couldn't imagine her parents' reaction. No, she _could_ imagine it,  
which was why she kept hanging up the phone.  
But she kept going back to the phone, because nothing  
irreversible had happened and she needed to talk to someone about it  
before she went nuts. Once she got as far as hearing Elisa's answering  
machine pick up, and then click! down went the phone.  
She woke one night just before dawn and stumbled to her  
window to peer eastward. There, hanging in the pale pink sky, was the  
thinnest possible sliver of moon. It was soon swallowed by the growing  
daylight, but she knew what it meant.  
Tonight.  
Still sleep-fogged, she accepted the truth. It had been real, and  
he would come back. Tonight.  
She passed the day in a state of distracted edginess. Whole  
classes went by in fifty-minute chunks of nothingness. Her notes were  
covered with scribbles and doodles, many of them in the shape of a  
coyote's-head mark.  
Even when the instructors posted the schedule for final exams,  
Beth hardly reacted. What were finals compared to a meeting with a  
god? Or spirit, or whatever he was.  
She drove home in the golden afternoon glow (her Jeep  
repaired finally, four hundred bucks that she could not afford), looking  
all the while for a sleek black bike along the road. She fidgeted and  
fussed around the apartment, unable to focus on anything for more than  
a few minutes, always checking the clock and checking the sky. She  
hadn't been so full of nervous energy since childhood Christmases.  
Suppose he didn't show? His words replayed themselves in her  
head -- is it live or is it Memorex? -- "There's always been a big market  
in playing mind games with you mortals."  
Back and forth, back and forth, she paced through the  
apartment. A thousand times worse than waiting for a first date. What if  
he stood her up?  
He hadn't said _this_ new moon. She could spend the rest of  
her life waiting, watching the lunar phases, worrying herself into a fit.  
Years from now he could turn up, when she'd grown old and grey and  
thought it all to be a dream.  
Legends were full of the perils of mortals who took elfin  
lovers. No sooner did her mind touch on that thought than it shied away  
like a skittish horse. It was only a date, if it could even be called that.  
Two kisses did not a lover make.  
Yeah, right. She was _in_ love. She, Beth Maza, who under  
her carefree mask was as self-contained and undisclosing as her sister  
Elisa. She had fallen and fallen hard, for an immortal biker with her  
dad's wry smile and the powers of a god.  
"Well, can't fault my taste," she said aloud, though there was  
no one to hear except the cactus on the windowsill.  
Just when she was starting to wonder what he could possibly  
see in her, getting ready to whip herself into a froth of self-doubt, she  
heard the roar of the engine.  
She squealed like a silly virgin on Prom Night and flew to the  
window, bumping the cactus with her elbow. Out and down it went, the  
heavy clay pot not just breaking but detonating on the sidewalk below.  
Coyote looked up in surprise. "Trying to get rid of me  
already?"  
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'll be right down!" She grabbed a black  
denim jacket and hurried to the door, catching a glimpse of herself and  
realizing that she had unconsciously dressed in imitation of him. White  
T-shirt, tight jeans, cowboy boots, sunglasses clipped into the V of her  
collar.  
He gave her an approving once-over as she emerged. She was  
peripherally aware of a few of her neighbors watching from their patios  
and balconies, no doubt drawn by the motorcycle and the noisy crash of  
the cactus pot. Beth guiltily kicked the larger chunks of clay into the  
bushes, promising herself that she'd pick them up later, and telepathied  
an apology at the plant.  
Coyote tossed her a helmet, this time a twin to his own, both  
with his coyote's-head mark painted on the side in gold. She donned it  
and climbed on behind him.  
"I didn't think you'd come," she said breathlessly.  
He glanced back over his shoulder. "I said I would." He  
sounded hurt, so she impulsively squeezed him.  
"I worry too much."  
"Guess it means you're glad to see me again."  
"Yes." She thunked her helmeted head companionably against  
his. "And I want to go to Avalon, if the offer still stands."  
"You know it does." He grinned hugely. "This is going to be  
great!"  
"Are we going there now?"  
"Nope. Party isn't for a few days. When do you get out of  
school?"  
"Finals are in a month."  
"Perfect!"  
"Then where are we going?"  
"White River Canyon."  
Once again, the answer satisfied her although she knew of no  
such place. And once again, as they rode, Beth was lulled by the  
passing scenery and the hum of the engine, while it was an engine.  
It soon seemed that there was no bike at all, just the wild wind  
speeding them along. For a time, it also seemed like their clothes were  
different, that his jacket was buckskin under her hands, that her helmet  
was replaced by a beaded headband and her hair streamed back as if it  
had grown into long dark braids.  
The land looked different too. Well, no, the land didn't, the  
land looked timeless and eternal. It was the works of man that looked  
different. The power pylons that marched in silent ranks across the  
desert were gone. The outlying towns along the highway, usually  
nothing more than a few gas stations and cafes, were now collections of  
false-fronted wooden buildings, or adobe houses, or tipis painted with  
symbols of the Buffalo Spirits. Once she even saw a vast herd of  
hunched, brown shaggy beasts moving in the distance.  
Sunset came early, and the only lights Beth could see had the  
orange flickery quality of living flame instead of the steady white of  
electricty. Those, and the shining stars that came visible overhead, were  
the only things that illuminated the dusk, yet Coyote didn't slow.  
Ahead of them, stark against the sky, rock formations towered  
like abstract sculptures. Howls greeted them and were answered, and  
low-slung brown forms paced them. Beth even found herself joining in  
the communion.  
On they went, until Coyote stopped at the edge of a bluff,  
where a river plunged into a narrow channel worn smooth by the  
centuries. He heeled over the bike, which was a bike again, and they  
dismounted.  
"It's so beautiful up here!" Beth exclaimed. She could see the  
river winding its way like a serpent through the canyon, under a natural  
bridge, and off across the plain.  
"Hungry?"  
She turned around and gasped, because there was a small fire  
blazing brightly, a striped woven blanket spread on the ground, and a  
round basket with a leather hide lid. Coyote was sitting crosslegged on  
the blanket, smiling up at her.  
"Sure!" She folded her legs and sat across from him, and  
accepted the waterskin he offered. The liquid within was water but not  
quite, with a cool electric-blue tang.  
He opened the basket and began setting out the food. Flat fried  
bread, strips of cured meat that was unlike anything Beth had ever  
tasted before, and sweet berries.  
As they ate, he entertained her with talk of Avalon, and of the  
old days when he had first come to this part of the world. She laughed  
often and easily. He clearly enjoyed re-telling his antics almost as much  
as he'd enjoyed pulling them in the first place. Even when some mortal  
or other spirit had gotten the better of him, he looked back on it fondly.  
The food was gone, and the fire was low, when he asked,  
"How about a swim?"  
"Are you crazy?"  
He got up and strode to the bluff's edge, looking down at the  
churning water. "The river here is just like a waterslide, nature's  
waterslide. The stone is smooth as doeskin."  
She joined him and her brows knit worriedly. "I don't think so.  
Elisa's fallen over enough waterfalls to last both of us a lifetime!"  
"Yeah, but did she ever do it on purpose?"  
"No ..."  
"That makes all the difference. Come on!" He shed his jacket  
even as he stepped out of his boots, then pulled his shirt over his head.  
Beth stepped back, more than a little bit startled but unable to  
keep from admiring him. He was bronze and lean, obviously  
unburdened by modesty, and a pleasure to see.  
He skinned off his jeans effortlessly, and raised his arms to the  
diamond-sharp stars.  
Something clicked in Beth's throat as she swallowed. Her  
knees felt weak and watery. A tingle spread from her sternum outward.  
And downward. All of a sudden her clothes felt too tight, too confining.  
She wanted to feel the night air on her skin. To feel more than the air!  
Coyote looked at her and his face was that of an ancient  
warrior, wise and stern and proud. Then he grinned, spoiling the effect,  
and was the trickster once more. His bright eyes challenged her.  
Beth met his gaze. A flurry of doubts tumbled through her  
mind and then were gone. She dropped her jacket next to his on the  
blanket and sat down to pull off her boots.  
Maybe he could disrobe with the practiced ease of a stripper  
complete with strategically-placed velcro tabs, but she wasn't going to  
chance getting her feet tangled in her pantlegs and falling headlong off  
the bluff.  
Soon she was down to bra and panties, rich yellow satin from  
Victoria's Secret. She considered keeping them on, looked at the  
rushing water, and decided that it was rougher than the delicate cycle on  
her washer.  
Off they went. Coyote uttered a low appreciative growl.  
Beth's mind did a cross-patch and she wondered if Elisa heard  
sounds like that from _her_ boyfriend. She remembered the way Elisa  
had looked in Vegas, trying to explain what her first time with Goliath  
had been like. Completion, she'd said. For them, it was true, the  
consummation of years' worth of secret longing, yearning looks,  
accidental touches. The final expression of a deep and abiding love that  
had grown from friendship and trust.  
She stood nude in the cool night breeze and looked at Coyote.  
What was between them was nothing like the passion Elisa and Goliath  
shared. This was something raw and elemental. Friendship and trust?  
She barely knew him, doubted she could trust him further than she  
could spit a rat, but oh! she wanted him something fierce!  
He shook his head as she opened her mouth to speak. "Last  
one to the bottom is a mortal!" he called merrily, and leaped feet first  
into the frothing water.  
"I'm already a mortal!" Beth yelled indignantly after him as he  
shot down the chute neatly as a bullet from the barrel of a gun.  
His only answer was a high, yipping coyote's cry.  
"Oh, what the hell," she muttered, and jumped.  
At least the water wasn't as cold as she'd feared! It was _fast_,  
though! The current seized her with no turning back.  
Over the worn-smooth stone, under a natural arch carved by  
wind and water, zipping around a hairpin bend in a bubble of  
whitecaps, better than any manmade waterslide!  
She raised her head enough to peek ahead, just in time to  
scream piercingly as the river plunged over a sheer drop. Beth popped  
over the edge like a cork, legs and arms flailing madly. She suffered a  
brief vision of herself falling hundreds of feet into a gorge, and then she  
splashed into a deep pool to the sound of Coyote's laugh.  
Beth came up, sputtering, her heart hammering crazily. "You  
little son of a --"  
He silenced her by using cupped hands to send a gout of water  
full in her face. No way she was going to put up with that, so in seconds  
a full-fledged waterfight was raging.  
She dove under and grabbed for his ankles but he writhed out  
of her grasp and dunked her a good one. Instead of fighting him, she let  
him push her down to the sandy bottom and pulled herself behind a  
ridge of stone. Her chest burned from holding her breath, but she could  
see him, a dark shadow against the starlit surface, turning this way and  
that in what she sincerely hoped was concern.  
She came up slowly so as not to alert him, and swam silently  
behind him. Then, as he was peering into the depths, she brought both  
hands down on his shoulders and shoved him under, hollering,  
"Gotcha!" at the top of her lungs.  
His startled exclamation was cut off in a bubble as he went  
under. He came up, shaking out his hair, laughing. "Okay, okay!"  
"You didn't _tell_ me there was another dropoff!" She flicked  
water at him testily.  
"Couldn't resist. You should have seen the look on your face."  
He winked. "Not that I was looking much at your face, with everything  
else there was to see!"  
Treading water, Beth finally took a look around. They were in  
a wide, nearly circular pool, with a few flattish rocks breaching the  
surface like turtlebacks. Weathered trees leaned from the cliffsides. A  
length of old knotted rope hung from one of the branches, perfect for  
swinging out and jumping. There were two waterfalls, one the gusher  
that had brought them here, the other a thin trickling curtain in front of  
an undercut in the stone. The river continued on in a much more sedate  
fashion, out of the canyon and across the plain.  
Arms slipped around her waist. The water and air were cool  
but the heat of the sun was in his touch as he pulled her close and  
dipped his head to kiss the side of her neck.  
Beth's eyes drifted closed, her legs shifting languidly to keep  
herself afloat. She leaned her head against his shoulder, relishing the  
sensations, the slippery caress of the water over their skin. No matter  
what he really was, he _felt_ human enough as his body pressed against  
hers.  
"I want you, Mai," he whispered in her ear.  
"Really shouldn't," she murmured. "You're all wrong for me."  
"Don't say that. Why do you say that?"  
"There's the age difference, for one thing. I'll get old and die."  
He kissed her forehead. "But do you want to grow old and die  
rergretting what might have been? I can't promise you forever, Mai, but  
I can make now worth living!"  
"Good point," she admitted after thinking that one over.  
"World's full of love 'em and leave 'em guys, but not many like you!"  
"True." His lips moved to her neck again, while one hand slid  
down her back to her buttocks.  
She moaned in pleasure. Any other reasons she might have had  
dwindled into meaninglessness. She relaxed beneath his gentle warm  
touch. He stroked her breasts, her hips, her thighs. He maneuvered her  
into a part of the pool where the current rushed strongly, and urged her  
legs apart so that the water flowed deliciously between them. She  
muffled her soft cries against his shoulder, then lifted her lips to his.  
Coyote added his fingers to the current flowing over her most  
intimate places and Beth nearly melted. She explored him with her own  
hands, delighting in the lean but firm muscles of his chest and back, and  
the finest ass she'd ever encountered.  
When she was so aroused that she could barely swim, he led  
her to one of the rocks that poked its back from the water. The rock was  
still warm with absorbed sunlight. Coyote climbed gracefully out of the  
pool and helped her up beside him. His wet skin glimmered in the  
starlight. He wasted no time but covered her body with his own.  
"Wait --" Beth managed. "What about ..." she waved her hand  
in a vague gesture downward at their loins.  
"What?" He drew back, puzzled.  
"You know ..." she said.  
He laughed. "Muzzle the coyote? Don't worry about it!"  
"But --"  
"You're safe, aren't you?"  
"I'm on the Pill, if that's what you mean, but --"  
"Then don't worry about it!" He moved down, kissing her belly  
and thighs, then parting them to give her a very persuasive argument  
with his clever tongue.  
Beth clutched his hair, gasping, unable to speak. Her hips  
rolled helplessly. He teased, he tormented, bringing her to the brink and  
then backing off, doing that again and again until she was just about  
ready to shriek and jump him.  
He raised his head, smiling in a supremely confident way.  
Bordered on smugness, as a matter of fact. Beth, despite her nearly  
frantic need, shook her head.  
"Oh, no you don't," she said. "Two can play at that game."  
With that, she slithered lower on the rock and found his stiffness.  
Maybe he was an immortal, with centuries' worth of notches  
on his bedpost, but Beth was a veteran of her cousin Nikki's slumber  
parties, where talk always turned to boys and a game of Truth or Dare  
tended to involve practicing certain skills on Popsicles.  
While Beth would never be pouty-lipped Nikki's equal, she  
applied herself with diligence and soon Coyote was all but howling at  
the sky.  
She finally lay back, the stone beneath her feeling soft as a  
featherbed. Coyote moved over her. His head was a shadow crowned by  
stars, meteors scratching cold white fire behind him.  
"Mai," he said, and entered her with one smooth thrust.  
She held tight to his shoulders, rocking to meet him. He buried  
his face against her neck and alternately kissed and nipped. Wind  
washed over them, spiraled around them, lifted them from their bed of  
stone. They rose high above the desert, borne by the wild whirlwind,  
with ghostly forms loping around them and filling the night with their  
music.  
Beth came like the Fourth of July, and Coyote followed  
moments later.  
When the last of the tremors faded away, Beth lay motionless  
except for the twitch and quiver of the muscles in her legs. She could  
feel the rock beneath her back again, and wondered if they really had  
been flying or if she had imagined it. She decided it didn't matter.  
Coyote raised his head from the cradle of her shoulder. His  
bright eyes twinkled at her. He opened his mouth to speak but she  
silenced him with her fingers against his lips. The warmth of his skin  
and the weight of his body were sweeter than any words could be.  
  
* *  
"Hi, Elisa, it's me."  
"Beth! Hey, how's it going? Guess what?" Elisa sounded  
excited and happy, and with the telepathy close sisters sometimes  
shared, Beth had a good idea why.  
"You're finally getting married?"  
"On Halloween. You'll be there, right? You've got to be a  
bridesmaid."  
Beth laughed. "I'm not wearing pink!"  
"Okay, no pink."  
"I need some advice," Beth confessed. "I'm kind of seeing  
somebody."  
"That's great!" Elisa responded enthusiastically.  
"Well, I'm worried that Dad won't approve."  
It was Elisa's turn to laugh. "Sis, I'm marrying a gargoyle and  
Derrek's kids have fur! Who could you possibly be going out with that  
Dad wouldn't like?"  
"Coyote. _That_ Coyote."  
There was a long startled pause, and then Elisa said, "Oh. Oh,  
I see what you mean."  
"Listen, Elisa, there's something else. He's invited me to a  
party on Avalon. Can you smooth it over with Mom and Dad?"  
"No way! Beth, are you kidding? Going to Avalon? Wait. This  
is nuts."  
"Hey, sis, you've had your fun. Now it's my turn!" Beth teased  
lightly. "Why should you get the grand tour while I have to stay home  
and be a good girl? I'll bring you a souvenir."  
"Yeah, great," Elisa said resignedly. "My Sister Went To  
Avalon And All I Got Was This Crummy T-Shirt. A bumper sticker  
reading: My Other Car is a Magic Skiff. I'm breathless with  
anticipation."  
"I'll try to find something better than that," Beth giggled. "At  
the very least, a pencil sharpener in the shape of the Sword in the Stone,  
or a plastic unicorn with a thermometer where its horn should be."  
Elisa made gagging noises.  
"Seriously, though," Beth cut in, "what _should_ I tell Dad?  
How did you break the news to them?"  
"I didn't. Mom figured it out, though I don't think she knew for  
sure until our niece and nephew were born."  
"Derrek said you turned to stone in Goliath's arms." Beth  
sighed dreamily. "What was it like?"  
"At the time, I was half-dead and out cold, so I really couldn't  
say," Elisa replied dryly.  
"I remember when you brought us in to see Derrek, after he  
changed," Beth said. "It was a shock, sure, but we took it okay once we  
got used to it."  
"This is kind of different, though. Coyote ... he looks like --"  
"I know," Beth fidgeted, abashed. "But after a while, it didn't  
seem to matter."  
"After a while?" Elisa prompted. "Is this serious dating we're  
talking here?"  
Beth shrugged. "What would you say if I told you I had a  
coyote-shaped hickie the size of a half-dollar?"  
"Eew."  
"I thought that's what you'd say," Beth laughed. "Which is why  
I won't tell you where it is!"  
* *  
The End 


End file.
